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mark uncovered Marvel’s face. Marvel’s eyes fluttered open and stared up blankly. The mark put his ear close to Marvel’s mouth.
    Marvel whispered raggedly, “Jimmy? . . .”
    The mark’s
basso profundo
voice cracked as he tried to fake the Kid’s higher register voice. “Yes Billy! It’s me, Jimmy!”
    Marvel sighed. “Get out my millions, Jimmy. Duffel bags . . .”
    The mark said, “Billy, where?”
    Marvel gasped, “Don’t let the gov’ment steal it! Get it out!”
    The mark pleaded. “Sure, Billy. Where? Where, Billy?”
    Marvel moaned as he quivered uncontrollably. He closed his eyes as he sighed out his last line of the play. “Aztec Virgin . . . ’neath her feet.”
    Marvel went limp. The mark’s match burnt out. Folks saw his shadow dash from the shack. He went to a rear wall to a stable peep hole. He watched the mark race to the ten foot statue at the rear of the shack. The mark struck a match. The portable fluoroscope gleamed beside the statue. He aimed it downward and put his eye against the machine’s eye-piece.
    Folks knew he was looking at fat, bulging canvas duffel bags buried in a large hole in the earth beneath the statue’s feet. The tops of several of the bags were gaped open, exposing prop bales of play money, topped off with real paper money. The mark fled the statue. Folks turned back to the play in the stable, packed from floor to ceiling with dusty bric-a-brac and statuary of many sizes. He took his position with Kate, before Kid. Kid struck a tomahawk against an old horseshoe. The excited mark rushed into the stable.
    The Kid said, “Mrs. Osbourne bids forty-five thousand . . . once!”
    He tomahawked the horseshoe.
    He intoned, “Forty-five thousand . . . twice!”
    The mark moved up front. His face was suffused with larceny.
    The mark shouted, “Mister Dancing Rain, I would like to join the bidding!”
    Kid glanced inquiringly at Folks and Kate. They shrugged assent.
    Kid said, “You’re welcome to join us, Mister Stilwell. I’m bid forty-five thousand twice!”
    The mark said stoutly, “Mister Dancing Rain, I bid fifty thousand!”
    Folks said, “I bid sixty thousand.”
    The mark’s ear wiggled as Trevor stage whispered into Folks’ ear. “Now remember, Mister Remington, past eighty-five or eighty-seventhousand, which is your liquid capital at the moment, you will have lost the legal capacity to bid here under Mister Dancing Rain’s rules of auction. Two days hence your liquid capital will be four million after the sale of that Australian property.”
    Folks said, “Mister Lee, have you lost your mind? Arrange a remedy for me with Mister Dancing Rain. I’ll liquidate a million dollars of my holdings immediately if necessary. I need a time break. Damn it, man! Can’t you understand? I must have that statue!”
    Trevor was about to make Folks’ request of Kid when the mark piped up, “Mister Dancing Rain, I would like to request a moment’s suspension in the bidding.”
    Kid studied him for a moment before he said, “All right Mister Stilwell. Take five minutes.”
    The mark’s big buck lust had him racked up, Folks thought. He pulled Folks and Trevor to the side. He took a pen and pad from his coat pocket. He rapidly scribbled an agreement that the statue was Folks’ for one dollar. He signed it.
    He whispered, “Now, friend, give me a dollar. The statue is yours if you drop out of the bidding.”
    Trevor and Folks looked at each other with genuine astonishment that the mark was playing himself.
    Then Folks bit his lip doubtfully. He said, “Mister Lee, can I acquire title to that statue in this . . . informal manner?”
    He said, “Why not, Mister Remington? I’m a notary.”
    Trevor gave the mark a dollar and took the paper.
    Trevor said, “That was a noble gesture, Mister Stilwell. But something puzzles me. Why your sudden interest in this ghost town and its rather tawdry assets? The statue excluded, of course.”
    The mark said, “I guess I